


Heart As Signal

by Rubynye



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Leia Organa/Han Solo, Minor Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, Multi, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 07:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: “I need advice,” Poe says, and watches Han’s eyebrows fly up his creased forehead.





	Heart As Signal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Petra LeMaitre (Petra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/gifts), [gloss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Angels are dreaming of you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332029) by [gloss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss). 



> *blows kisses to my wonderful dedicatees*  
> Title from Vienna Teng's "Level Up"

Shoulders wedged into a corner of the _Millennium Falcon_ , legs splayed between his sleeping lovers and the chilly decking, Poe guiltily wishes he still had a proper bed. Especially his bunk on D’Qar, not so much because of the sleep, though he does miss solid sleep, as because of all the pleasure he shared with lovely sentients in it. Most importantly with Finn, who’s curled now over Poe’s knees, head resting in Rey’s lap. 

Poe wishes he could give Finn so much more than a cuddle and a jacket. The first three stops after Crait were for resupply, taking on air and water and ration bars, bedrolls and blankets, but whether padding jury-rigged triple-tier bunks or laid out across the floors of cargo holds, all the bedding feels a little thin, less than warm compared to memories of a good solid bed. So Poe quietly gave up his bunk shifts to people who needed them more, and instead wedged himself into hidden corners, and of course Finn followed him and Rey followed them both.

Rey sighs and shifts against Poe’s chest, her cheek pressed to his bared throat and her legs slung across his thighs, and he regrets all over again that he couldn’t offer her that lost bed to take Finn to, or bring her there himself when she climbed into his lap and wreathed her arms around his shoulders as she kissed him. Rey deserves so much more than rumpled bedrolls and creaking bunks and dusty blankets, but she never complains, just smiles at everything, at the remnants of the Resistance, at Chewbacca and the porgs, at Finn and BB-8, and the undeserving Poe. 

He tips his head back into the walls’ angle, stretching out a little under Finn and Rey’s sleeping weight, and has no idea what he’s doing, how to take care of them, the Resistance, their General, anyone. All he can do is listen to them breathe, feel the Falcon’s vibration surround them, hold them close as he dares, and close his eyes.

X >o<. X >o< X 

“Hey, kid,” Poe hears, and opens his eyes. He’s standing in the Captain’s bunk, but the bed-shelves he thought he screwed to the wall are nowhere to be seen. Didn’t he put them up? He turns into the open space where the other row should be, just as he hears, gruff and deep, “What the kriff didya do to my ship?”

“Filled it kinda tight,” Poe admits, swinging around to face Han. “We were in a hurry.”

“So I heard,” Han says, hand on hip, looking like he did when he used to give tiny Poe piggyback rides, hair still dark and face only lightly creased. “Lotta people updated me on your losses.” Fuck, it hurts to hear, even in a dream, maybe even worse because it’s a dream. Poe can’t do anything but close his eyes and accept the anguish.

A broad hand closes warmly on his shoulder, and Poe shakes his head. “Lotta that’s my fault.”

“Funny, everyone said it was the First Order pricks who shot ‘em or blew ‘em up.” Poe looks up as Han squeezes his shoulder, and now he’s as gray and craggy as the last time they saw him, the last time Leia saw him. Still, Han’s fingers feel as strong as they ever did, gripping Poe’s bicep and steering him to sit. “So why are we here, anyway?”

Here? In the _Falcon’s_ Captain’s bunk? Inside Poe’s head? “I need advice,” Poe says, and watches Han’s eyebrows fly up his creased forehead. “About Finn and Rey. About taking care of them.”

“And you’re asking _me_?” Han shifts away like Poe’s stupidity is catching. “For advice? About anything?”

“Yeah, I’m shocked myself,” Poe says, tartly enough to make a smile crinkle the corner of Han’s mouth. “But I figured you’d know the territory.”

“The _territory_ ,” Han drawls, leaning back against the wall. “Where you’re old enough to have settled into a routine, you figure you know the shape of your life, until two beautiful talented kids crash into you and flip it all upside down?” Poe nods, because yes, that fucking territory, and Han keeps going, because he always did like the sound of his own voice. “Where one’s a big-eyed baby Jedi and the other’s a high-minded dark-haired beauty and they both think they’re all grown up and they’re so young you can’t stand it? Nope, I have no idea, kid. None at all.” 

“That,” Poe says, stretching out his words in return, “is because you are full of shit.”

Han cocks his head, and Poe notices the shine off his dark hair, that he’s young again. “Not anymore,” he says simply, like it’s easy to be dead, like he didn’t rip a ragged hole through all of them when he fell. “But I always was too much of a nice guy for my own good.” 

Poe snorts, and Han smacks his shoulder, nice and bracingly hard. “That’s what I always heard, how _nice_ you were.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Han says breezily, and now he looks no older than Poe himself, smirking and loose-limbed. “Nicest guy in the galaxy. Which is why I’ll point out how _nice_ it is for you that at least your two aren’t secret siblings.”

Poe has to toss his head back and laugh at that, full-throated, warming all through, and he hasn’t laughed in, fuck, how long? It feels like forever. Was it the TIE fighter flight when he met Finn? When Rey practiced holding him in midair? Even in a dream it feels good, and Poe blinks his eyes open again to find Han gray and creased and regarding him with quiet straight-mouthed care. “Actually,” Poe says, because it’s funny no matter what, “Leia had them cross-checked, when we did their standard onboarding workup. Just in case.”

Han barks a sharp laugh, and his mouth stays pulled up lopsidedly. “Well done, Princess General. How _is_ Her Worshipfulness?” 

Sudden red crackles at the corners of Poe’s vision. “You really wanna know?” 

Han’s head tips down just enough for his bushy brows to shadow his glare. “Nah, kid, just passing the time.”

Poe clenches his fists. “You put a crack in her heart.”

“What?” Han rolls his head and shoulders negligently, dismissing Poe’s anger. “By leaving?”

“By dying,” makes Han’s now-dark eyebrows rise. 

Poe breathes a five-count, and thinks rueful amusement that he’s done it enough to dream about it, and watches Han think it over. His, “Wasn’t exactly planning to,” comes out a little deflated, almost soft.

Poe’s anger spills out and drains away, but it was never more than a cover for his fear anyway. “I can’t take care of her,” he admits.

Han flashes him a sharp look, then shrugs, shaking his head. “You think I could?”

“I remember when you did.” Back when Poe was little and Ben was littler, when Poe’s Mama was alive and the world was green and happy. “Or at least I thought so.”

“No one wants their kids to worry,” Han quotes Poe’s Papa, “But yeah, there was a time… and then there wasn’t. And now _you_ think…”

“…at least I can take care of Rey and Finn. At least I can try.”

Han smirks at him, slow and wide. “All right. Lemme give you Uncle Han’s rules,” as Poe rolls his eyes to the low steel ceiling, “on the care and blooming of your astonishing young sweethearts.” He elaborately crosses his legs, holds his hands out palms up, and says, “There ain’t any.”

Poe groans. “Then why are we here?”

“You tell me, kid, it’s your dream.” Han shrugs. “But there’s one thing I can say. You just gotta fly by instinct, trust their love, let that love save you over and over.”

Han doesn’t look like it’s easy, at least. From his serious, deeply furrowed face, he looks like he knows it’s the hardest part. “I’m not sure I deserve saving,” Poe slowly admits, to a dead man, inside the privacy of his own head.

Han nods. “It’s not about deserving it. We fuckhead flyboys, we _can’t_ deserve it. We just need to accept it, not talk ourselves outta believing it. Trust me on that.”

Poe takes a breath down to the bottom of his lungs, and lets it out across a five-count, another. “Thanks,” he manages after a few moments, and Han nods deeply, and for awhile they just breathe.

“By the way,” Han says, “How’s the fuzzball?”

“Chewbacca adopted Rey and the other way around,” makes his face light up, and now he’s young, smooth-faced and tousle-haired, so young Poe’s breath catches in his throat. Han smirks wide and Poe wonders briefly who took care of _him_ —

Everything jumps and tilts, slamming Poe face-first to the floor. Han’s standing over him, eyebrows hiked, saying “Wake up,” in Finn’s voice —

X >o<. X >o< X 

“Wake up,” Finn says, low and urgent, the _Falcon_ shuddering around them. Poe’s eyes fly open to the sights of Rey dashing away around the corner and Finn kneeling over his leg, gripping his shoulders, leaned in almost nose to nose. “Poe?”

“Right here, Buddy,” Poe mumbles, blinking quickly, shoving his feet beneath him as the ship lurches again. “What’s the sitch?”

“Unknown spacetime anomalies, no hostiles sighted.” Finn tips back onto his heels and stands straight up with those gorgeously muscled thighs. Next breath he grips Poe’s hand and yanks him up too, not even needing Poe’s push against the wall. “Come with — Rey?”

Who skids back around the corner, slams plushly into Poe and grabs his wrist. “Gravity crosswaves,” she puffs. “We need—“

Poe can fly through that. Better yet, he can show Rey how. “You got it,” he tells her even as he pulls Finn closer. They kiss him together, each side of his tender mouth, and Finn grins brightly as he jogs backwards, then spins and runs towards the communal bunks, Rose’s Medbay, anyone who might need help. 

Rey whirls the other way and Poe runs with her as BB-8 rolls bleeping up behind them. _Trust their love_ , echoes between his ears, and he can feel Rey’s delicate trembles through her fingers. “Let’s go surfing,” he says with his best cocky-flyboy grin; she glances at him, giving him a curious, heart-lifting smile in return, and he feels a little more like he can do this. Like they can do it, together.


End file.
